


For the first time

by nadinecestmoi



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Diary/Journal, Fluff, Harry's POV, Jay - Freeform, Light Angst, Long Time Span, M/M, Mentions of Death, So yeah, TMH era, The X Factor Era, WWA Era, all quite vague, but nothing too graphic, but we all KNOW it's major in reality, from the bottom of the stairs, i am shit at tagging, it's not a major character here, it's probably just a lot of sappy stuff, otra, there is some slight nsfw content, there's mentions of shitty stunts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9093184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nadinecestmoi/pseuds/nadinecestmoi
Summary: What if Harry had kept a journal (most people would call it a diary, but he'd disagree) from the day he first auditioned for the X Factor?Not to write about his day, every day. More like one to pick up occasionally, noting down small sentences, happy days, conversations that seem too important to be kept inside. Pages that often that will follow him while his life spins around.A journal that might lay in a drawer for months before resurfacing again.A silent but constant companion to somehow stay grounded, to keep track of fleeting moments, touches that stay there long after the contact has gone, eyes in eyes, lyrics scribbled down quickly when you just can't get them out of your head... Well, it's quite likely that that journal (diary, Harry, it's a diary) would become the story of two people, two boys, two souls. How they met and how they never left. And yet, how they keep on meeting again and again, falling for each other every day.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work. It might honestly be shit but please be gentle with me - honest, too, of course.  
> It cost me a long evening and one semi sleepless night. Lots of tears. I don't know why I wrote it, it's definitely not groundbreaking or anything, but it comes from raw emotion ad somehow it was therapeutic and it made me sad and happy and just overwhelmed by these guys' love, over and over again.  
> I was majorly inspired by Harry's tweets, especially from the first years, when they were so pure, as well as by a sappy playlist.  
> Title is a song by The Script - that Harry tweeted when he was falling for Louis. Honestly, it gets to me every time.  
> Hope you like this :) feedback is always welcome!

**July 2010**

So my friends got me this journal as a lucky charm. For when you become a popstar and forget what it’s like to be a real person. I don’t quite get what they meant. It’s not like a popstar isn’t a real person. And it’s not like I’ll become one! I was a bit mad but I didn’t tell them.  
However. I think I’ll keep it. I am here and I’m writing so… yeah. Don’t you expect me to start writing as if you were my friend and calling you dear diary! Well. That was the last time. I think it’s my turn to audition soon. I don’t want Gemma to make fun of me – even more – if she spots me writing here, so.  
Bye.  
(Note to self: the JOURNAL – not a diary! – isn’t a person. No need to say bye)

Dear diary! I made it to bootcamp! Lots of people. I don’t know if I’ll write a lot at this point. Maybe just a bit not to jinx it, because the luck thing worked, so. 

“Hi”.  
_Hi hi hi hi hi._ Hiiiiii. Ha! Such a tiny word but such a cute word. Nice. I’m sleepy now but happy. Goodnight, diary.

I peed on a boy yesterday. Hence what happened before my “goodnight, diary”, I guess.  
His eyes were just so mesmerising and there’s something in the way he moves. And he startled me! It’s not like I completely peed on him. Just his shoe. I must have mumbled something stupid and he just said hi. I feel like it means more than I can grasp. Last night, it was all I could think about. 

He calls me curly, he calls me superstar.  
He makes me confident and unsure at the same time.  
I just call him Lou because I don’t think I can come up with anything that sounds lovelier than that. 

Dear diary, WE’RE IN A BAND! A group? A group maybe would be right. Not sure. We’re in a band just sounded more dramatic, right? Please note: we as in Louis and I! And other lads, too. They seem nice, but I already know Louis is nicer.

 

**August 2010**

A girl was listening to a Taylor Swift song and it reminded me of Louis. I think I got it bad.  
_I see sparks fly whenever you smile._

 

**September 2010**

“You’re just so adorable, aren’t you, Curly? But I feel like nobody fancies you quite like I do”

_We just now got the feeling that we’re meeting for the first time._

Apparently Louis was in Manchester too that night, for The Script. I never understood the meaning of butterflies in the stomach until we figured this out… it’s just insane, isn’t it? 

Dear diary, he’s so nice.  
Well, he’s an asshole at times, but he’s always so nice to me. I think this makes him even nicer. 

Dear diary… He’s so beautiful.  
I feel like every word he speaks is a revelation. I always wanna know more.

He’s so fun, also. 

Dear diary, I love his voice.

He’s so warm and soft. When we brush hands I feel electric. Somehow, we’re always revolving around each other. It’s pulling us in. He’s magnetic and maybe I am too, to him? Or maybe I’m dreaming because he’s so adorable and he’s just being nice. I think we’ve established how nice he is, at this point.

Dear diary… Just forget about this first person thing alright? It’s all gonna be impersonal and mature from now on. Also, if some of the lads finds this, they’ll tease me even more if I speak to you as if you were a person. The lads are awesome btw! (just in case they see this! Hi lads! Close my dia- um, journal now okay?)

 

**October 2010**

The competition is fun, Louis is better.

I feel like we’re on the edge of something but I don’t know what it is yet, or I don’t allow myself to hope for that much. 

We got asked what it’s the most caring thing you would do for a girl. Well, he was just so cute and crazy and warm next to me and a girl was the last thing on my mind.  
He was all I could see as I said, “I think I would write them a song”  
And he said, “Write them a song, then!” and I thought man, how I would, how I would.  
I just wrote this down in case one day, when this is all over, I forget what it felt to be falling like this.

_Write them a song then._

 

**November 2010**

We were shooting our videodiary for the fifth week of competition, and I learned that if Louis had a superpower, he’d fly. He was probably just saying but his words just stick to me all the time, and I copy them here, in case I ever forget. I never want to forget anything about him. 

The next question was about our first kiss. Zayn gave his long answer while being all confident and all I could think about was how my first kiss was shit. It wasn’t even a kiss. I stuttered so much that in the end I just let it go, mumbling to “edit it out”, then slumped on the wall next to me. 

“What about you, Louis?” Niall said, turning to him.  
What I didn’t expect was for Louis to make even less sense than I had. I think they’ll cut out his part, too.

Later, sitting on the bed, alone in the room, I’d gathered my courage to ask him, “So about that first kiss?”  
He turned to me. He looked so brave, fearless, “It was nice back then, I guess, but it was more like a test to figure out something. About meself. And I think it worked, but I don’t think it would be fair to call it my first kiss because I wasn’t into it. It was mechanics”  
I thought he was brilliant, and he made me want to be brave, too, “Then my first kiss wasn’t real either because I’m not sure if I even like girls at all”  
He looked at me in a slight shock that turned quickly into something much softer.  
“Um,” he coughed a bit, “same”.

If this never happens again or if it was just a dream, dear diary, please don’t ever let me forget the feel of Louis’ lips on mine.

Just so you know… It keeps on happening!

I just want all of him. The way he touches me… I want to feel him all over me even when he’s gone. I want him to feel me, I never want him to forget. The prettiest colour is the shade of dark pink on those spots of his body, where my fingers have pressed too harshly – it makes him even purer. It makes him unreal because he’s mine… sorry, this made sense in my head.

This is not wrong.  
I don’t think we’re moving too fast, even if some producers seem to disagree. It’s not like we’re not doing it again as soon as he comes back from his forced break! There’s still so much I want to try and I know he feels the same. God, I want him all the time.

Sometimes I’m afraid, but I know he is too and when we’re together everything is dark and red and it engulfs us and nothing else is real anymore. Then, when it’s over, it’s all white and luminous and not even the fear is real anymore. It’s like walking through a fire and finding out it doesn’t burn but even if it had, you would have done it all the same.  
Or maybe the fire does burn but we don’t get burnt when we’re together. 

 

**December 2010**

I’m pretty sure I’d marry him for real… even if it doesn’t rhyme. 

When we’re not together I miss him so much. I’ve had good friends, best friends even, but he’s on another level. I might be slightly obsessed. 

 

**January 2011**

So by the way we didn’t win. It didn’t make sense to write it here because I know it, I was there, right? We got signed anyways. I know this too. Everybody does. I think it’s clear that this journal is about something – someone – else at this point.

Anyway. We’re touring a lot and there are girls who scream when they see us. Life got a bit crazy and I never got around to updating this thing but at this point maybe it really was my lucky charm all along?

Note to self: I’ve just noticed how I am now officially third-personing this journal. I feel like this is a step toward the adult age. 

I still don’t get where Hannah fits in all of this. I know she doesn’t get him like I do. In any sense. I still don’t like it when people tweet her and call her his girlfriend, just as I don’t like it when she calls him Lou. But when we’re alone and we’re in bed and he’s under me, all sweaty and pliant and hot, he tells me “no one says my name quite like you do” and I keep on moaning it over and over and over until I feel like I’m dying for how alive I am. 

_Man, oh, man, you're my best friend, I scream it to the nothingness, there ain't nothing that I need_  
_Well, hot and heavy pumpkin pie, chocolate candy,_  
_Jesus Christ, ain't nothing please me more than you_  
_Home is wherever I’m with you_

 

**April 2011**

_Home is wherever I’m with you_

Louis can’t cook for shit and I think I’m in love.

 

**August 2011**

I’m fairly certain I’m in love.  
Leeds was where I realised it, but I think those dusty steps at the X Factor house was where I knew.

It was so humid in the tent, and quite cold, too, but Louis hovered above me and I was on fire. He looked so good and felt even better. As I felt him inside me, I started speaking and I might have let it all out.  
Like, of course we love each other, we’re best mates and boyfriends (I think?) and all. We might have used the word some time, but never in the way that I wanted to. Never like _oh God, I love you, I love you, you’re it, you’re mine and I’m in love with you, God, you’re everything._  
I might have mumbled something along those lines but we were high on many things, especially each other, so I don’t think it counts. I’ll tell him properly soon.

 

**September 2011**

Sometimes things are hard.  
We’re working a lot, which is cool, but at times I just feel so trapped. I know Lou does too, but when we’re home, we don’t mention it, not in depth. Princess park is our sanctuary and we try not to spoil it with what goes on outside. Somehow, it’s always there, but when we’re alone, the room is sacred. We get to be ourselves there, nothing but ourselves. Sometimes I wonder if that’s enough. Sometimes I ask Louis, even, and I suddenly feel so young, a baby in his arms, in his eyes.

I asked him once again.  
“That’s enough, it is. We are. Don’t cry now… Baby? Baby… Look at me. I love you, okay? I love you so much”  
So he beat me to it, in the end. It wasn’t some special declaration, he didn’t even make his chicken dish, or lay rose petals on the bed like I was planning to. I was just a mess after talking to our managers and having doubts about everything, we were eating thai food on our bed and I started sobbing pathetically at the thought of that girl… those girls! And the smug look on our handlers’ faces, as they thought they were fooling me because I’m young and inexperienced. Their so-called explanation didn’t even make sense, which was their goal, clearly. Just a lot of words thrown at us, “it’s better this way”, “we’ll handle it, don’t worry, you won’t have to do anything”. I told Louis this, too, how mad they made me, treating me as if I was daft or something; he agreed, we hate them.  
“But what if we’re not strong enough, Lou? What if this gets to us in the end?”  
“What do you mean ‘get to us’?”  
“I… I don’t even know! Make our life hell”  
“It might, yes. But that doesn’t change anything. We’re what matters the most, okay? And that’s enough, it is. We are”

_I love you I love you I love you. Harry, baby. I love you, I love you, I love you._  
He kept on whispering it like a prayer and I believed in God.

 

**October 2011**

It’s harder but Louis never lets me doubt him one second. “She might be next to me in those pictures, H, but you’re in my heart, alright? Always. Always, baby. Always”.  
He only calls me baby when I’m most vulnerable, or when we’re fucking. He calls me baby a lot lately.

 

**January 2012**

I opened this journal today after almost three months only to realise that not much has changed. Well, our lives, maybe. Lots of promo and stuff. People like our music and the album dropped and it was a success. Though if I’m honest, I’m only flipping through these pages to read about Lou. We fight a bit lately and he yells at me at times, because he’s frustrated and he hates answering questions about Eleanor.  
I think I get now that I’ve been a bit selfish. Even if I’ve been apparently shagging someone as old as my mum, as well as every breathing female that crossed paths with me, he’s the one with the fake girlfriend.  
All in all, it sucks for the both of us. 

 

**March 2012**

Funny how I keep coming back to this. It can stay hidden for months and then I’d just crack it open and break down. I try to re-read it all but it’s getting long and sometimes I make myself cringe; however, I always go through the latest entries.  
All in all, I like the story it tells. 

 

**May 2012**

I actually think I might use this to write down tattoo ideas. I really want to get stuff and I have just so many things in my head, that I’m afraid I’ll forget. Lyrics, too, maybe?  
Dear diary, would you be okay with that? Ha, I’m just messing around. I’m eighteen now and everything. 

 

**June 2012**

I can’t change…

Couple tattoos would be cool. Louis doesn’t want them though.

 

**October 2012**

Dear diary! (Still ironic, of course) Louis cracked! I knew he would, somehow. He always gets riled up when I let him touch my fresh ink, still covered with bandages. Calls me a kinky wanker but then he fucks me so good and he touches the spots that are still sore from the needle, just hard enough to make them sting, to make me remember… I love this. I think I’m addicted to it all. The smell of the leather chair and the slight tension in the room; focusing on the small things, like the sweat on the artist’s brows or a fly that is attracted to the bright lights above us; the pain of it, how arousing it is, especially when Louis is watching me; what happens after. I especially love what happens after.  
So I knew he would want one too, soon.  
“Not that I have a pain kink too, Harold, so you’d better watch it. It still hurts like a bitch!”

Apparently, the first word I said to Louis was ‘oops’. I couldn’t remember, was certain it would be kinda stupid, and I wasn’t wrong, but it’ll look like a poem once it’s on his skin. 

 

**December 2012**

I think some Taylor Swift song reminded me of Louis once upon a time? Well. Fucking ironic.  
It’s not even that she’s not nice. 

Ok, scratch that, she’s not even that nice. (“Baby, H, it is what it is, alright? I’m still here”)

_I'm coming, I’m coming home to you, I’m alive I'm a mess_  
_I can’t wait to get home to you, to get warm and undressed_  
_There’ve been changes beyond my dreams, everybody wants me to sing_  
_There’ve been changes beyond my grasp, things I’m sinking in_  
_So keep me in your bed all day, all day, nothing heals me like you do, nothing heals me like you do_

“Alright, H, let’s do it”  
“Really?”  
“Don’t act like it was all you, Harold! I came up with the concept. All nautical and shit. Goes with my stripes and toms aesthetic”  
The whole conversation was borderline delirious and I felt dizzy with excitement and joy.  
“Together, actually”  
He rolled his eyes then and God, how I loved him.  
“Alright,” he said, already caressing his skin, where the ink would go, “I’m fine with together”  
“Me too” I couldn’t stop smiling.  
We were going to do it! 

Man, we did!

_And where I’m home, curled in your arms and I’m safe again  
I’ll close my eyes and sleep, sleep, to the sound of London Rain_

_Nothing falls like London Rain_  
_Nothing heals me like you do_  
_Nothing heals me like you do_

 

**February 2013**

“Lou, can you imagine…” my sleepy whisper got lost somewhere in the crook of his neck. After a while, I wasn’t certain of having said that or just thought about it and I let it go, closing my eyes.  
He stayed silent and I thought he’d fallen asleep. Then, “What, Harry?”  
I shook up a bit and opened my eyes again. His own were semi-closed, I could barely make out a hint of blue behind his long eyelashes.  
“Can you imagine… Having this forever. Never being alone anymore. Always going to sleep next to each other. Always…”  
I felt him nod and he held me tighter. “I can, yeah”  
“I just want it to be you and I forever”  
“Write this down”  
“Mh?”  
“Write this down, H. Trust me”

So I’m writing it down. 

“Hey… Hey, H? You still awake?”  
“Mm”  
“It will be us forever. Happily ever after, right?”

As you can see, I wrote that down, too.

 

**June 2013**

“How can you do it, when it gets too much?”  
“Because you’re there, love. Harry. It’s you… You make me strong”

 

**September 2013**

_When we first came here, we were cold and we were clear, with no colours in our skin, we were light and paper thin  
And when we first came here, we were cold and we were clear, with no colours in our skin, ‘til we let the spectrum in_

“Would you marry me, Harry?”  
“Because it rhymes?”  
“Be serious!”  
“Yeah, yeah, Lou, I would”  
“Okay”  
“Should we do it today?”  
He chuckled. God how I love the sound. “No, love. When we do, I want it all. I want it memorable”  
I agreed.  
“But I’ll always remember today, too,” I added.  
It’s September 28th, 2013.

_Say my name_  
_And every colour illuminates_  
_We are shining_  
_And we will never be afraid again_

 

**January 2014**

I thought I’d lost this while touring and I proper freaked out. I’m alone in LA and I need the memories more than ever.

At times, at night, I can’t sleep. I just feel so alone, cold, almost sick. I curl on the side and hold myself as if he was there.  
I think of sunny days and Paris and how dry his chicken was the first time but I still thought it was a meal worthy of the gods. Probably told him so. I shouldn’t have because his head is big enough already. I think of Norway and Dallas and of those night when we didn’t even know where we were, I think of the boys calling us sickening and then admitting but so cute, I think about feeling invincible and strong and fearless and about those stolen touches back at the X Factor house, of how amazing it feels to hold his hand and see that our tattoos line up and the crinkles by his eyes when he smiles, as Ed put it.  
At times, I call him and we get each other off on the phone and he says that nothing has changed, but I’m not sure if I believe him.

Other times, I think of our fights and how I’ve never really seen him cry, he just pushes his fists into his eyes so hard and grits his teeth and he doesn’t understand that he looks even more vulnerable, ever so small. I also think he’s getting too thin, but whenever I mention it he snaps at me.  
On those nights – well, these nights, I call my trainer and we start working out. I’m pretty sure he hates me. I wouldn’t blame him for it. 

 

**May 2014**

The hardest thing is ignoring him on stage.  
The best thing is fucking him as soon as we’re off, adrenaline still rushing through our veins, desire so fierce that I feel like crawling out of my own skin during the encore.  
We hurt each other for how bad we want it. I grip on him like he might crumble in my hands and he’s so, so frail, but he’s made of steel, he’s unbreakable. He’s everything. He moans my name and calls me baby, he tells me that he loves how long my hair is getting, but I think his is longer, now. He knew I’ve always wanted to grow mine and that I wasn’t sure I could pull it off. Or maybe I just feared they would tell me to stop being a fucking poof and cut it already. He stopped getting haircuts. I did too.

 

**June 2014**

I’m obsessed with Ed’s new album.  
When I’m twenty-three, I’ll grab a guitar and sing Thinking out loud to Louis. Only then will it make perfect sense, but honestly, it’s just as about him right now. Ed wrote it with the guitar I gifted to him and I was around a lot. I feel like the song was his way to give something back… he’s the best, really.  
It’s not even the only song that speaks to me on a personal level.  
_So I can take the back road, but your eyes will lead me straight back home…_

 

**July 2014**

Louis is in Portugal with her. He just texted me: _oh these times are hard, yeah, they're making us crazy, don’t give up on me baby._  
I didn’t need to check to know I’d tweeted the same lyrics a while ago. Ironically, things were way easier back then.  
I cried.  
Louis and I have written fucking songs for each other but man, The Script still gets to me.

Jay is getting married.  
“I want everyone to know what you are to me”  
“What am I to you?”  
“You’re everything, you twat”

His family – our family – is so lovely. I’m glad his sisters now know properly about us and everyone hugged me and the words 'Louis’ boyfriend' never sounded nicer.  
I want a wedding like that someday.

 

**August 2014**

I just wanted to write something romantic, since we’re in some sort of honeymoon and all, but Louis saw me!  
Turns out, he’s known for quite some time.

“We’re in Bahamas, Harold, quit that diary and come lay with me!”  
“It’s not a diary! It’s-”  
“Do you seriously, genuinely believe that I’m seeing you scribble shit down there now for the first time?”  
He raised my eyebrows, “For the first time. Like the song!”  
“I’ve always wondered what that diary of yours is about”  
“You”  
He rolled his eyes and giggled fondly, “What a sap”

_It's you, it's you, it's all for you, everything I do, I tell you all the time  
Heaven is a place on earth with you_

(Never let Lou know that I’m quoting Lana del Rey while writing about him).

 

**October 2014**

We’re feeling reckless and brave. We are going to come out soon. Even if they don’t let us. We’ll make everyone know. I’m smiling as I write this and Lou is looking at me, but he never peeks at my words. It’s sweet because I know him to be a nosy fucker. I’m off cuddling him now. Bye. (oh God! Been a while since I’d done this. Maybe I got confused because I feel like we’re sixteen and eighteen again).

_A long way from the playground…_

 

**November 2014**

Best shag of my fucking life, I think. I’m sure we will top it soon enough, but so far, the mere thought of Louis squirming under my tongue earlier makes me hard again.  
We were going to be late for the performance and we knew everyone was in the next room. We knew they could probably hear us… we didn’t care. I hope they heard him good because there’s no sound as celestial as the way he screamed while I slammed into him from behind, holding both his dainty wrists in my hand.  
Or maybe there is. “Just a bit of banter, I think”. God, he sounded broken. All I could think about were his glassy eyes as I fucked his throat just before he managed to sputter “I need my voice, Harold. Just fuck me now”.  
I’d pulled off and got ready, “You probably won’t walk then”  
He shivered. “Happens to the best of us”  
(It’s still all I can think about)

Today, Louis told me to write ‘Ben Winston can choke on cock’ in here, “just for the memories, love”. It doesn’t really fit the theme of this journal but since, if I’m honest, Louis is the theme, I thought I’d comply. I’m so proud of him after today. Always am. Today, more.

Oh God. This is bad. Louis just texted me not to check twitter and if I can get some weed before he arrives. I’m writing because now I’m curious to go on twitter so I need the distraction.

HE GOT THE DAGGER  
Ha. Our supporters seem to love this sentence and well, I do too. I just wanted to know what it felt like to write it.  
It’s amazing how even when things are shite, he can turn them around in a second.  
“You knew I was going to get it, babe. I guess I was just… waiting for the right time”  
“Lou, this month was shit”  
“Yeah… yeah, exactly”

 

**February 2015**

Turns out, Louis had this all along, since before Christmas, probably. At the bottom of one of his still-half-full travel bags (I should know, I am the one who unpacks for him, so if we aren’t together he’s a mess). Says he never found it and I believe him, because it smells like the dirtiest of his socks. I know he wouldn’t have read it anyway. I know because he’s had the chance many times but he always shakes his head and says “Anything you write in there, you can tell me out loud when you feel like it. And if you don't feel like it, then it isn’t stuff that I need to know”.

_Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air, I know I can count on you  
Sometimes I feel like saying, “Lord, I just don't care”, but you've got the love I need to see me through_

I’m so glad he was here for my birthday. And I’m glad for the sex on a plane. Not the first time, not the last, but woah… This one was wild. I think he tore my shirt and I’ve never worn anything more proudly. 

 

**March 2015**

So, Zayn left. We all saw it coming. Louis is suffering nonetheless. I honestly think Z has had a crush on him for the longest time and it was becoming toxic. I feel that if I tell Louis again, though, it will break him. Right now, I want to protect him from any kind of pain.

 

**April 2015**

I’m in LA, alone, again.  
I feel like there’s a song stuck somewhere between my brain and my heart. Or maybe it’s in my stomach. I can’t get it out and I thought this could help. I remember thinking I would use it for lyrics and stuff… Even though, in the end, I’ve never properly noted them here, lots of what’s inside has inspired me. Old moments, memories that stay asleep but are never really forgotten… I think I’ll just go to the first pages and take a look.

Sometimes I am intimidated because Louis is such an amazing songwriter. The very thought of the words he wrote about me makes my knees weak. I can’t believe I am the inspiration behind so many beautiful songs, but most of all, sometimes it still amazes me how connected we are. It’s like he peered into my soul and put my messy thoughts on paper, transforming them into poetry. It’s been so long, it’s been so long, maybe we’re fireproof.  
Just thinking about Lou’s songs makes my eyes prickle.  
Well, except No control. That one makes me hard.

Talk about songwriting! Louis texted me today, it’s a snippet to something he’s working on with Liam and Jamie. I cried. His voice was so sweet and it trembled slightly as he tried different tones to sing I’ll make this feel like home.  
He did it, once again, didn’t he? He’s in my soul. He is me and I am him. 

_Home is wherever I’m with you._

_So I can take the back road, but your eyes will lead me straight back home._

Lord how I miss him. I’d better get to work or I’ll just mope around all day. 

So I’m re reading stuff from when we first met. The grammar is decent, at least.

_I learned that if Louis had a superpower, he’d fly._  
_I just wrote this down in case one day, when this is all over, I forget what it felt to be falling like this._  
_He was probably just saying but his words just stick to me all the time, and I copy them here, in case I ever forget. I never want to forget anything about him._

Silly, silly me. How could I ever forget?

_“I’d… write them a song”_  
_“Write them a song then!”_  
Well if I, for one, had a superpower, I’d probably choose flying, too, and I’d use it to get to him as quick as I can.

_If I could fly, I’d be coming right back home to you._

 

**June 2015**

“We finally get to write together, Lou!” I flung myself on the bed of our hotel room.  
He plopped down next to me, sitting against the headboard, his legs laid in front of him; I was laying on my belly and I turned, to look at him better. He motioned to his legs and I lay my head there, as I always do, closing my eyes as he started combing my hair with his delicate fingers.  
“What do we write about, kitten?” (he doesn’t use it too often, but it’s my favourite endearment of his).  
I laughed quietly but didn’t open my eyes. His voice, his hands, his very presence. So soothing.  
“What do we always write about, Lou? Love”  
“Yeah, but… we always do. I mean, writing for each other is something, but with each other… won’t it get a bit too heavy on the romantic side?”  
At that point, I opened my eyes, “Heavy on the-” I stopped and chuckled. He was probably right.  
“But it doesn’t have to be heavy” I said after a while.  
“It doesn’t” he agreed, “It can be… Ironic?”  
“An ironic love song” I was a bit sceptical as I got to a sitting position too, “Like what?”  
He thought about it – maybe he pretended, that little shit! – for a couple of seconds, before getting up from the bed and starting to sway his hips playfully, singing under his breath “You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye…”  
“Stop that” I laughed. It was ironic alright.  
Of course, he went on. He made me swear never to reveal that he knew most of the lyrics afterwards, but honestly, he was onto something.  
“Keep the rhythm going though, Lou!” I exclaimed, excitedly getting up too, “It’s working for me! We can do something with that!”  
“You want to fuck to a song your beard wrote about you?” he raised an eyebrow to me. “I mean… I’m game if you are, Harold”.  
I tried to retort that “I was actually talking about work… like for the song”, but he was already gone, popping open a bottle of champagne.  
“You’re bad, Hazza! And I’ll raise you this: we can make a little film out of it for her to enjoy! You know I’m always up for trouble!”  
“We have to write”  
“We have to fuck”  
“…God, you make me crazy”

In the end, we did it all. (We deleted the film though). 

 

**July 2015**

Louis isn’t here.  
He texted me: _maybe you're loveable, maybe you're my snowflake, and your eyes turn from green to grey, in the winter I'll hold you in a cold place, you should never cut your hair, ‘cause I love the way you flick it off your shoulder_

And I know how it goes on. My best friend wrote it, after all.  
And you will never know just how beautiful you are to me  
But maybe I'm just in love when you wake me up

Everything is going wrong, but how can we give this up? How can we, when we’re the only thing that’s right?

 

**October 2015**

It might seem stupid, but I just wanted to write down that I felt the crowd go wilder when Lou and I hugged tonight. Nothing else matters.

“I’m glad we’re going on a break so I can stop seeing the two of you fucking like rabbits anytime I open a bloody door” – Niall (just thought this deserved a quote, on the night of our last tour date)

 

**December 2015**

I want our coming out interview to be with James Corden.

I also don’t want to get on a yacht ever again, unless it’s with Louis.  
Also, Kendall’s breath stinks. (Louis forced me to write this)

 

**January 2016**

My new year’s resolution is to make it through. With the hiatus and our place in LA, I just want it to be Lou and me for a while. Or forever.

Well, fuck.  
Somehow, we all thought they wouldn’t go through with it… they did. I feel for that baby and for his real parents but most of all, I feel for Lou.  
I am nauseous and I don’t think I’ll open this journal again for a while. Everything is not as it’s supposed to be and I can’t stand to read how delusional and hopeful I’ve been. We’ve been.

No, wait. Everything’s not as it’s supposed to be, but Louis and I are.  
I have to focus on my plans and my man.  
Hopefully the next time I read these lines I will have succeeded. 

 

**July 2016**

I wanted to read something nice to Jay so I gave in and grabbed the diary again (diary… I think it’s ok to call it that. She calls it that). I lose my train of thought when I speak with her, at times. I’m just overwhelmed with sadness, fear, admiration, gratitude and love and it all gets a bit too much. I don’t make sense and I don’t want her to think it’s her medication or summat when it’s really me.  
I can’t stand the situation but at least I’m glad that, being in France for the film, it’s easier for me to go back to London and visit her. I want to be strong for her and for Louis.  
I didn’t even want to write this, but I thought that I owe her the love of my fucking life. The least I can do is mention her in my crappy diary. Yeah, it’s a diary, ok?!

God, I realise now that so much has changed since the last time I wrote.

 

**August 2016**

I miss him I miss him I miss him I miss him.

_Slide away and give it all you’ve got, my today fell in from the top  
I dream of you and all the things you say, I wonder where you are now_

He texted me. _Ibiza is nice, but your nicer!_  
I replied: *you’re  
He goes: _wanker, I’m drunk_  
And I go with the only thing I can think about, whenever he is in my mind (which, coincidentally, is always): I love you.

_I love you, it’s all I do, I love you._

I’m not sure if I like my new hair and my neck is always cold. Louis says I’m always gorgeous and that I look sexy with my hair pushed back. I think he simply couldn’t wait to quote Mean girls on me.

_Hold me down – all the world's asleep_  
_I need you now – you knocked me off my feet_  
_I dream of you and we talk of growing old but you said please don’t_

He called me a while ago, crying. Louis hardly ever cries.

_Now that you’re mine, we’ll find a way of chasing the sun_  
_Let me be the one that shines with you_  
_In the morning when you don’t know what to do_  
_Two of a kind, we’ll find a way to do what we’ve done_  
_Let me be the one that shines with you and we can slide away._

 

**November 2016**

We made love on the floor of our place in London. We were tipsy but not wasted and I was as in love as one can be. I saw in his eyes that he was thinking the same thing and it moved me in a way that was probably exaggerated, given the fact that we’ve been together for almost seven years.  
He called me beautiful and his sweet boy and his baby.  
It was emotional but it was also fun. We hadn’t laughed during sex – or at all – for quite some time, by now.

_We’re gonna start by drinking old cheap bottles of wine, shit talking up all night, saying things we haven’t for a while, a while..._

 

**December 2016**

She’s gone. She would be proud of what she left behind.  
Jay, if you’re reading over my shoulder:  
1) Please skip the nsfw parts!  
2) Thank you. I feel like I owe you my own life.

I’m in pieces. Louis is too, but in a way, he’s stronger than I am.  
The song is beautiful and Steve is a blessing. I also love his hair and I’m slightly jealous of it, if I’m honest.  
Backstage at the X Factor Louis held me like he didn’t care if we were falling apart, as long as we were doing it together.  
“We’ve come a long way, uh, Haz?”  
That broke my heart even more.  
“I’m so proud of you, so proud, baby, you’re so brave. I love you. I love you. I’m so proud”  
I kept on chanting these words to him long into the night and the next morning and the next and the next until, somehow, he didn’t need them anymore.

I think he still does need them. It’s ok, because I’ll never get tired of saying them for him.

We’re always together lately, I guess I got used to it again pretty quickly, because tonight, that he’s in Donny, I got smashed and started texting him nonsense.

It kinda went like,

Me: Lou! Tonight is the night where two become one!  
Him: _Well it’d better not be you and Grimmy or he’ll become one with my fist_  
Me: You’re so funny, I spat wine all over myself laughing!  
Him: _You must love me a lot_  
Me: I do.  
Him: _Can’t wait to hear you say it in a church or summat_

God… how is he real?!

The month is almost over. It was probably our longest one so far, and I mean, we’ve had some shitty times before.  
Louis just texted me, You done with that RBB revival tour? How can it be the saddest month of our life and still be so filled with happiness and laughter? I guess that’s just what you get when Louis Tomlinson is your fucking soulmate.

I have to write tiny because this journal (ok, diary) is almost over. In all honesty, it lasted longer than I thought, even though at times my words are literally minuscule… I kinda feared ending its pages. It’s been with me all along, after all. Anyway. I’m wasting some space here! I just have to get two more sentences in, more or less.  
So. Today is your birthday. Yes, love… I’m talking to you.  
I know it’s not much but I thought I could give you this piece of me, since in reality, it already belongs to you. Also, there’s Gucci under the bed.  
I love you.  
Always yours, H.

P.S.  
Spoiler alert! One day, not far from now, a page of my future journal-diary-whatever will go like this:

_We're smiling but we're close to tears,_  
_Even after all these years,_  
_We just now got the feeling that we're meeting for the first time._

Dear diary, I married him.


End file.
